


this thing called love, I just can’t handle it

by ineffablehusbands



Series: a certain and nice narrative to the relationship of an angel and demon [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 years of slow-burn, Canon Continuation, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, In Denial!Crowley, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious!Aziraphale, Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Romance, Silly Cuteness, Slight mention of The Them, Slow Burn, Small appearance of God played by Frances McDormand, ambiguous ending, just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 04:27:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablehusbands/pseuds/ineffablehusbands
Summary: “He wanted to slap himself for not realizing that the incomprehensible emotion he’s been experiencing since literally the beginning of time was love. Everything came rushing back to him— every moment his heart yearned for a certain someone whenever they were separated, the reason why he only ever takes his sunglasses off when talking to Aziraphale, his longing to make the angel laugh and be content with him, why a demon like him would sneak inside a consecrated ground just to rescue an angel.He is in love with Aziraphale.”In which two pining idiots finally get together.





	this thing called love, I just can’t handle it

**Author's Note:**

> The tv show inspired me to write this fic out of the blue and I’ve always loved the book! 6000 years of extreme slow burn and pining is my genre, so hope you enjoy!

The Ritz was unsurprisingly crowded when Crowley and Aziraphale entered the luxurious restaurant and sat in their usual place of dining, which has been miraculously emptied the moment the angel and demon stepped inside [1].

It had been merely a day since the Apocawasn’t happened and barely minutes since their respective head offices kidnapped them in broad daylight, and tried to kill [2] Aziraphale and Crowley with their respective flaws— hellfire and holy water, which was unsuccessful [[3]](%E2%80%9C#section3%E2%80%9D) as they evidently wouldn’t be presently partaking food in Aziraphale’s favorite restaurant if they were, indeed, _dead._

Crowley was pretty sure Heaven and Hell would leave them alone. For a decade, maybe, until they decide to forget _it_ ever happened and try to punish them both once again.

He leant back in the chair, content in relaxing and thinking about what happened the past few days. Crowley, if he was being honest, didn’t even like eating [4], and sleep was a much better option for him. So, he drank the cup of tea swiftly while his steampunk glasses-covered yellow eyes secretly follow his companion’s movement, who was currently eating biscuits comically. He couldn’t help but smile fondly at the angel, his human vessel’s heart beating sporadically in a way he couldn’t explain.

“My dear boy, will you be going someplace else after we end our rendezvous?”

Aziraphale’s winsome voice startles Crowley out of his thoughts [5] and he takes a small unnecessary inhale to ignore both nearly falling out of his seat when Aziraphale called him my dear boy adoringly and the way Aziraphale’s soft orbs seemed to glitter in affection — _and when the hell had they started looking magnificently more beautiful than usual?!_ — as the angel directly gazed in his form.

Crowley suddenly felt like swallowing his own tongue, feeling its forked end subconsciously lick his dry as a desert lips. He knew Aziraphale felt something was wrong when a curious eyebrow arched and scrambling out words, he opened his mouth to cut off whatever Aziraphale was about to say with a, “Why, angel, miss me already?” snarkily.

Said angel coughed a chuckle in return, his eyes clearly glinting in amusement and Crowley knew he was able to put off whatever Aziraphale was about to tell him at that moment.

A comfortable silence meandered around them for a second until Aziraphale patted down his satisfied stomach and nonchalantly says, “I was just wondering if I can tempt you to go back to the bookshop with me? And I _know_ , I’m not a demon, why should I be doing the tempting? But, if you’d like to stay for a while, by all means...” he trails off almost disconcertingly, and Crowley could spot hints of blush rising up to the angel’s neck, and became perplexed by it, practically wishing to ask Aziraphale about what that meant [6].

However, the memory of Aziraphale’s bookshop burning infiltrated his mind and he felt the phantom feeling of the flame singeing his sleeves and glasses while it mocked him as he knelt down his knees and screamed his heart out for _his_ angel whom he thought had truly perished caused panic to swell inside him.

“Crowley? My dear? Are you okay? Was it something I said; do you need anything?”

Crowley blinked once he heard Aziraphale’s alarmed voice slowly increasing to extreme worry and he turned himself around so that he can face the angel properly, an excuse [7] readily escaping his mouth, “It’ssss nothing, angel. You don’t have to worry about it. And assss for that, I’m sssssorry but I have some other mattersss to attend to, tempting people, making sssure my plantssss are following my ordersss conssssidering it’sss been a day sssince they lassst sssaw me, the general.” and leaving a sour taste in his throat, guilt filling his veins as he lied to Aziraphale successfully [8].

Disappointment enveloped Aziraphale like a massive coat and Crowley internally fumbled with himself, the urge to retract his words enticing him like the apple in the Garden captivated Eve did [10].

Tranquility swathed the two as Crowley begun driving, but it wasn’t awkward. The both of them were used to bonding together in solidarity, even if it meant they were wrapped in a pleasant silence. That particular stillness was only interrupted when Aziraphale reached out his arm to look through Crowley’s quite massive collection of tapes.

“You still have that bebop album here,” Aziraphale cooly quipped as he glanced at the same Velvet Underground album he looked through in the past, Crowley’s eyebrow twitching when he heard the word _bebop_ , “First of all, angel, you don’t get to judge my music taste when yours is ancient. And second, they are not bebop!”

Crowley heard Aziraphale chortling quietly and he let go of the steering wheel [11] and swiveled around, “Crowley, I’m just joking. I actually listened to them a while back, might I say, I do appreciate their song _Pale Blue Eyes_ , was that the name?”

And there was _that._ It was so shocking that it made Crowley’s jaw drop and his snake eyes widened remarkably, ignoring the flush that appeared on Aziraphale’s cheeks, he yelled, “You listened to them?! _You?!_ ”

“Why are you surprised? It’s not like I can’t listen to them,” Aziraphale countered defensively, although he knew it was a weak retort when Crowley merely scoffed playfully.

“It took me carefully calculated planning [12] for _decades_ before you agreed to have a listen to Queen’s Best Hits album and the fact that you listened to _The Velvet Underground_ without any convincing? Did someone miracle you or something?” Crowley asked.

“Well—I.. you know, the world was supposed to be ending and everything— I decided to try doing things I haven’t—which were quite a few, if you ask me— so I—I listened to them…” Aziraphale muttered, looking chagrined.

Something in Aziraphale’s expression warned him not to say anything, so he gulped down the teasing sentence he was supposed to reply with and grinned like a cheshire cat as an alternative.

His eyes darted around before realizing they were already in front of the angel’s bookshop. “Angel, we’ve arrived.” Crowley announced, Aziraphale rising up to his feet.

“I presume you’ll take your leave now?” He questioned expectantly, even if there was no hint of malice in his voice. Just genuine curiosity. “Yeah, I guess,” Crowley drawled carelessly, looking everywhere but the bookshop and not seeing the confusion and hurt that flashed in Aziraphale’s expression before it drifted past.

“Right. I shouldn’t bother you with pleasantries. See you after, dear.” Aziraphale uttered awkwardly before shutting the door to his bookshop with a loud clang. That made Crowley look back and he saw the angel’s figure slowly disappearing out of his sight as he walked further.

“Ah, I fucked something up, didn’t I?” Crowley mused.

 

* * *

 

 

A week has passed since Crowley and Aziraphale helped saved humankind from its inevitable destruction because of the Antichrist, a sweet and young 11 year old boy named Adam Young who decided that ruling the world seemed boring and difficult enough, which stopped Hell and Heaven’s plans on battling each other _and_ a week has passed since Aziraphale last saw Crowley.

It was beyond doubt _odd_. Crowley has never disappeared for more than a day, at least, without telling him or unless he accidentally slept and probably wouldn’t be awake for months or years (or a century even). Nevertheless, Aziraphale shook his head and rearranged his books [13], his mind unsuspectingly filled with thoughts of a certain Queen-loving, yellow-eyed, and serpentine demon.

No matter how much he tried, heavens know he couldn’t deny that he hasn’t stopped thinking about Crowley, every speculation is suggesting that he **likes** the demon more than a friend, and wasn’t that blasphemy?! An angel falling in love with a demon? It should’ve been impossible, _hell,_ it was probably the biggest sin an angel could do and he had no hesitation that if Heaven ever hears of what Aziraphale is feeling, he’d be punished immediately [14].

He can reminisce the past millennia where he was just bewildered and uncertain of the nature of his true affections until that specific day in 1941.

It was just the beginning of the height of WWII; Crowley—whom as far as Aziraphale had known, was still in his century-long sleep and wouldn’t wake anytime soon— sneaked inside a _church_ aka consecrated ground where demons literally have a high chance of being set in fire just to pull him from wannabe Nazis spies who undoubtedly tricked him, as much as disturbing that is that an angel got deceived by three human beings.

He can relive that memory over again because it was the same day something appeared to lift the curtain from his eyes and make him realize that what he was feeling, was _love_. Aziraphale had exactly memorized what Crowley was wearing and the practically loopy expression he had when Crowley saved his books [15].

Aziraphale had attempted to block the annoying and impervious emotion called _love_ a thousand times, to no success. God, he’s committing sacrilege! Angels weren’t supposed to love a demon, there were nought occurrences where an angel ever fell in love with a demon, at any point in time [16]. And maybe if there were indeed cases— in which an angel and a demon fell in love (spoiler alert: none), he was convinced that the angel fell.

Not like he would hesitate to fall for Crowley, because he knew his whole being fall for the demon without any questions, despite the matter that he’ll veritably never disclose that to anyone. It doesn’t even matter, on the grounds that he’s confident Crowley doesn’t like him the same way. The demon would probably even laugh at him for ‘joking’, even if he wasn’t.

Now however, in the present, he has given up wrangling to make the emotion dissipate and decided to move on, doing whatever he does best as an angel: adapting.

The front door’s bell ringing signaled him that someone entered his shop and he stifled a loud sigh, twirling around to distract and persuade whoever was planning to buy one of _his_ books to leave because even if it was a book _shop_ , there was no way he’d be letting anyone who doesn’t love books as much as he does buy anything from the store.

( _“Angel, no one loves books as much as you do!”)_

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed-” Aziraphale faltered once he saw the person, or specifically, _demon_. Crowley was wearing his usual retro sunglasses that hid his yellow snake-like orbs from people’s eyes and an all-black outfit. He looked, surprisingly, out of place.

“Crowley, what are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked, after he’d spent an unnecessary amount of time staring at the demon shamelessly who merely held up a small packet in his right hand, waving it and mouthing, “Chocolates.”

“Hey, angel, tempt you to go on a picnic with me?”

 

 

* * *

 

The split second Crowley stepped foot inside Aziraphale’s shop, he should have known that his mind would instantly flash back to the fire and trepidation rolled off his body when he didn’t see Aziraphale in view. Although that feeling was forthwith quenched when he heard the angel’s voice, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed-”

“Crowley, what are you doing here?” The shock in Aziraphale’s voice was tumultuous and Crowley internally cringed, not hoping to hear that sentence _especially_ since he did disappear for a week without telling the angel.

He disregarded his thoughts out and waved, chocolates [17] in hand as he spoke, “Hey, angel, tempt you to go on a picnic with me?”

Aziraphale stills suddenly and the nervousness went back in full force, uneasy with how their conversation seemed detached. “I suppose, but what brought this on, if I may ask? You go ahead and disappeared for a week long and then you expect me to agree that easily without any explanations?”

_Ah, there’s_ **_the_ ** _interrogation._ Crowley broods, wincing when Aziraphale struck him with an expression similar to a mother scolding her child. Or, in this case, an angel (his bestfriend) scolding a demon.

Crowley chuckled nervously, “Angel, I don’t really have an explanation for that… except that I forgot about the time… picnic?” Miraculously, a picnic basket and bottle of a 1947 Cheval Blanc wine appeared in his hands.

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment, a contemplative look on his face before sighing exasperatedly, “Fine. But you know, we have to talk about your penchant for disappearing later on, yes?”

Crowley blew a raspberry in response, huffing, “Yes yes I know. I just bloody miracled as one of your favorite wines so let’s go, shall we?”

 

 

A half an hour walk later [18], a smiling angel and irritated demon finally arrived in St. James Park, where they have been meeting for the past decades Aziraphale was assured the ducks knew them because they always flocked to his side whenever they contact, expecting to be fed with food.

“Bloody hell, I don’t see the point in wasting our time in walking when we literally could have been here 40 minutes ago with my Bentley,” Crowley lamented loudly, plopping down an empty bench and muttering complaints underneath his breath, even though Aziraphale could hear them clear as day.

“Really! _You_ were the one who wanted us to have a picnic, Crowley. Naturally, we’re going to do it traditionally.” Aziraphale admonished.

The angel was positive if Crowley kept rolling his eyes at him, it would glue in a direction he wouldn’t find funny in, nonetheless, Crowley rejoindered sarcastically, “In which part was walking to the park when we could have driven in the rules of traditional picnicking?”

“Oh, be quiet.” Aziraphale hushed him, reaching out for the picnic basket and taking a bite out of the apple pie freshly baked inside, “Ah, that’s one heavenly pie, my dear, where’d you get it?”

“I obviously baked it, how do you think it’s still hot and fresh?” Crowley said and Aziraphale guffawed, the notion of Crowley baking appearing to be impossible but he remained blank-faced and Aziraphale quietened, “You—you’re serious, dear?”

Offended, Crowley griped, “ _What?!_ Why are you so surprised? Don’t think a demon like me can bake?”

“Oh, oh dear— I’m sorry. It’s just— I don’t expect you know how to bake,” Aziraphale, feeling culpable all of a sudden, apologized.

“ _Love_ , I’ve been on Earth for 6000 years with you, and I’ve picked up some skills throughout the centuries [19].” Crowley said indifferently, taking out a glass from the basket and pouring himself wine.

“I do have to say, this is one of the best pies I’ve ever eaten, Crowley.” The angel said softly, and a tint of red unexpectedly surfaced on the demon’s ears. “Shut up, angel,”

Aziraphale winked, “I’m telling the truth, my dear boy.” He stated before standing up, “I’ll go buy ice cream for us. My treat,”

“Why don’t you just miracle it instead? Saves you all the trouble.” Crowley called out and Aziraphale gazed at him, and spoke slowly as if he was talking to a petulant child, “It’s the _principle_ that makes it different, Crowley.”

Crowley snorted, despite the fact that his lips were upturned, amused. Aziraphale shook his head at Crowley’s antics and walked briskly towards the lady selling ice cream, “One chocolate and one vanilla ice cream please, dear.”

The woman handed him the ice cream cones and just as he was about to pay, the lady waved her hand away, “It’s free, I’ve seen you lovely couple hang out here every week and it’s adorable knowing you guys are intensely in love with each other! I think it’s beautiful,” the woman warmly smiled, a glint on her eye.

_Couple???_ The word resonates within Aziraphale like a broken tape. He wanted to deny it, try to explain to the human that they weren’t a couple and just friends, but a small part of him preened at the idea people saw them as a couple. It was irrational, he knew, but if the woman firmly believed they were one, what use would it be to convince her otherwise? [20]

“Oh, thank—oh, thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale finally responded back, his blushing cheeks darkening into a deeper shade of red and prayed Crowley wasn’t eavesdropping. It really wouldn’t do him any good if Crowley heard what the woman said _and_ what Aziraphale replied with.

“You’re welcome, boy. I wish you husbands a long and happy relationship,” the woman winked.

He calmly turned around, ignoring the blush on his cheeks and walking back to the bench where Crowley was waiting. Even if the lady did tell him that it’s free, no one would know that he miracled a couple of pound bills on her cart anyway.

“What was that all about, angel? Seems that you got a little _chatty_ with that woman.” There was a tone in Crowley’s voice Aziraphale can’t discern, but the angel felt relief knowing he didn’t eavesdrop on Aziraphale’s conversation with the woman, thus, he wouldn’t know what the lady said.

“Oh dear, that was nothing. Just wanted to tell me something, that’s all.” _She thinks we’re a couple, and not just a couple, but husbands, dear!_ was left unsaid.

Crowley frowned, but said nothing as Aziraphale handed over the chocolate ice cream and he licked it gradually. Aziraphale remained silent too as he deliciously ate the food Crowley had prepared in the basket whilst making sure no drop of ice cream would come to his tartan coat’s sleeves.

“You know, you can visit my flat anytime, if you want to that is.” Crowley added the latter hastily, seeing as Aziraphale stopped from taking a bite out of a scone he took from the basket and blinked.

Crowley didn’t know what overcame him and made him ask Aziraphale to go to his apartment spontaneously. Hell, he didn’t even know what’s been happening to him the past few days since the Armageddonot. He was, frankly, a _mess_ of emotions.

“I have no idea why, all of a sudden, you’re asking me to visit your home,” Aziraphale started and Crowley resisted the urge to say that his flat was no way his _home_ , because home _is_ wherever he was with the angel. “However, I suppose I’d like that. I’d see your plants, for once.” He thoughtfully said.

“Oh, you better not praise them, Azira. It took me a lot of strategic and careful planning to get them to fear me and I wouldn’t let your _angel presence_ ruin that for me,” Crowley warned and Aziraphale beamed innocently.

“Of course not, Crowley! What do you think of me, some kind of saint?”

Crowley merely arched his eyebrow incredulously, “You may not be a saint but you sure as hell one of the ‘sweetest’ —that it’d make ants bite— person I’ve known.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

 

* * *

 

“I really shouldn’t have trusted you,” Crowley grumbled, his eyebrow twitching ever so often as Aziraphale cooed at his plants, who shook in excitement, seeing as it’s the first time they’ve ever met another person, and someone who treated them kindly [21].

It’s only been six days since their picnic at St. James Park and Aziraphale, true to his words, decided to stop by Crowley’s apartment and bringing with him a book to read while he roamed around the flat.

“Dear, they’re absolutely beautiful! I don’t see why you frighten them,” Aziraphale murmured compliments at the plants and that’s when Crowley lost it.

Huffing sourly, he clutched Aziraphale’s arm without hesitation and dragged him away the plants. Glaring at his plants with all the might a demon can have, a satisfied and smug smile appeared on his face when they started shivering and he closed the door with a slam.

“Now come on, Crowley, what was that for?” Aziraphale reprimanded lightheartedly. “They should know their place, and _you_ — there was only one simple rule I asked of you and that was not to compliment my plants, how should I know you wouldn’t follow the rule is beyond me,” Crowley whined like a spoiled child.

Aziraphale sighed fondly, “Lighten up. Alright, as my way of apologizing, I’ll let you choose whatever song by whomever artist you want to play on your vinyl and I’ll listen.”

Those words seemed to have done their job however a mischievous smile emerged from his face, “You _will_ dance with me, too.”

“Do I have any choice?” Aziraphale teased and Crowley shook his head, swiftly choosing a vinyl record and placing it atop the player before going back to Aziraphale, his arm already pressed against his waist.

Freddie Mercury’s voice filtered through the background as the intro of _These Are The Days Of Our Lives_ played.

 

_Sometimes I get to feelin’_

_I was back in the old days, long ago_

_When we were kids, when we were young_

_Things seemed so perfect, you know?_

 

Crowley hummed the tune silently as they danced around the empty minimalistic room, Aziraphale’s arm comfortably placed on his shoulder.

 

_The days were endless, we were crazy, we were young_

_The sun was always shinin’, we just lived for fun_

_Sometimes it seems like lately, I just don’t know_

_The rest of my life’s been, just a show_

 

Slowly, Crowley’s mind flashed back the memories they spent together. From the Garden of Eve to saving Aziraphale in that church in 1941. And then a brief period of time where they went their own ways while Crowley creatively invented stuff in his own free time— namely the Internet, the M25, the London telephone system, and reality tv shows. He also remembered spending the holidays with Aziraphale while humans freaked out over the so-called Y2K bug and then, consequently, over the 2012 theory as predicted by Mayan calendars, which was ridiculous, if you asked him. Human beings would freak out over the smallest signs of the world ending but doesn’t even care that they’re ending it themselves [22].

 

_Those are the days of our lives_

_The bad things in life were so few_

_Those days are all gone now but one thing is true_

_When I look and find I still love you_

 

_I still love you_ Freddie Mercury’s voice echoed inside Crowley’s head until a metaphorical light bulb illuminated and it was as if he was hit by a tidal wave of awareness as he looked down to see Aziraphale closing his eyes and swaying to the music while his arms held him tightly, oblivious to the ongoing turmoil in Crowley’s part

He wanted to slap himself for not realizing that the incomprehensible emotion he’s been experiencing since literally the beginning of time was _love_. Everything came rushing back to him— every moment his heart yearned for a certain someone whenever they were separated, the reason why he only ever takes his sunglasses off when talking to Aziraphale, his longing to make the angel laugh and be content with him, why a demon like him would sneak inside a consecrated ground just to rescue an angel.

He is in love with Aziraphale, it may have been 6000 years and a lot of time had been wasted when he could’ve recognized his affection sooner, but he’d be damned if he doesn’t get to confess his desire for the angel.

 

_You can’t turn back the clock, you can’t turn back the tide_

_Ain’t that a shame?_

_Ooh, I’d like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride_

_When life was just a game_

_No use in sitting and thinkin’ on what you did_

 

_Sometimes it seems like lately, I just don’t know_

_Better sit back and go, with the flow_

 

* * *

 

 

It took Crowley a month [23] before he finally (surprise surprise!) grew a backbone and decided to confess his love for the angel.

They built a daily system before that, they spent some days eating lunch at the Ritz, some nights eating at Aziraphale’s favorite sushi restaurant, then him hanging around Crowley’s flat, and him hanging around the bookshop. He didn’t even notice how much time passed until _that_ day.

It was a normal Tuesday, he recalled, he’d been sitting alone in his flat, misusing time that could’ve been devoted to him and the angel being together, until something cracked within him and the next thing he knew he was at a jewelry shop looking for rings [24].

His faux leather boots clicked loudly against the marble floor of the shop and he stifled a groan when Love of My Life by Queen started playing the second he arrived. Crowley was convinced Hell-Heaven-God-Someone Out There knows what he’s doing and was entirely positive they were playing with him. Nonetheless, he rolled his eyes and walked around the store until he saw their vintage collection and something caught his eye.

It was a unisex couple’s ring. The ring was slim and gothic-looking and it was _perfect_ for Aziraphale. It had a design of an angel’s wings and demon’s tail intertwined together while intricate diamonds surrounded the ring. Crowley knew it was the one. Just from observing the fancy piece of art, he knew it was extremely expensive, but money was never a problem for him anyway. He can just conjure bills up and he’d be able to buy anything in the world [25].

Crowley grasped the jewelry without a thought and paid in cash hastily. He strolled out the shop and started the engine of his Bentley. Somebody to Love by Queen instantaneously played the second he pressed the ‘play’ button of his radio and Crowley’s eye fluttered, “Sata-God-Somebody, if you’re playing with me right now, I want to tell one thing. Bugger off,”

If possible, the song’s volume seemed to increase louder and Crowley’s irritation, too.

  


 

The sound of a familiar car screeching to a stop at the front of Aziraphale’s bookshop lead the angel to stop reading Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray and strolled towards where Crowley is. The sight, definitely, shocked him.

Crowley wasn’t wearing all-black, which _is_ a huge miracle and surprise itself. He was wearing a black double-breasted blazer on top of a sky blue turtleneck and the chain Aziraphale had given him on his neck. On top of that, a bouquet of alstroemeria, purple roses, and yellow acacias [26]. The arrangement of the flowers made Aziraphale’s heart race significantly.

_It couldn’t be… right? There’s no way Crowley knows the meaning of those flowers… I—It’s not possible, maybe I’m just overthinking it too much…_

“Hey, angel, it’s for you,” Crowley mumbled, handing over the bouquet to a flustered Aziraphale whose face was red as an apple. “Ah, oh—thank- thank you, my dear. But if I may, what brought this on?” _And dear, do you even know what the meanings of these flowers?_ was left unsaid and Aziraphale fought the urge to ask Crowley, knowing that he’d either be, evidently disappointed or… he doesn’t know, it’s absurd anyway.

Crowley’s face suddenly reddened lightly, and he coughed, suddenly thankful he was wearing dark-tinted glasses to cover Aziraphale from seeing his dilated pupils and rushing heartbeat. “I, I have something to tell you, darling.”  

Aziraphale nearly fell over when he heard what Crowley said, surely he musn’t assume right? However, the demon calling him _darling_. What was that about? He wasn’t even sure if Crowley knew he said it himself or it was just a slip out of his mouth. Either way, Aziraphale’s curiosity (and was that hope?) roared like a fire in him and he nodded dazedly, “Well, do come in then, Crowley,”

The demon smiled, even if it was a weak and nervous(?) smile and Aziraphale followed him. Crowley snapped his finger and the curtains of the bookshop’s windows lowered itself and his sensitive sense of hearing heard the door lock in front of them, and Aziraphale’s nose scrunched in confusion. “Dear? What is this about-”

“Stop talking for a minute, would you?” Crowley responded, pacing in circles around him although his voice held no hint of animosity at all, just broad apprehension. Aziraphale could see Crowley was on edge, not in the malicious kind of way however, so he zipped his mouth and waited for the man to talk. “I— I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance, _or the balls_ to do this in the future and I don’t want to make this any longer, so, bloody-” Crowley fiddled around something in his pocket and Aziraphale repressed a gasp when he saw a small box in his hand.

He couldn’t help it as small tears formed in his eyes, although it went unnoticed by Crowley. Was this _really_ happening? Or was it some kind of sick joke Crowley was pulling on him, because he swear to God, if this is a _prank_ —

“I know I go too fast for you, Azzy. Hel-Heav-Somebody knows if you even feel the same way but, damn it, I can’t— I can’t help this anymore okay?”

_Say it, say it, darling. Say it, my love. And I’ll be yours._

“At first, I just thought that what the bloody hell was I feeling now? It was unusual, strange, _peculiar_ —I’m just basically listing every word in the fucking dictionary right now— and then that day happened, remember last month when I asked you to dance with me?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded delicately, even though his brain was scrambling with all sorts of ideas and he couldn’t even speak.

“I realized it that day, while These Are The Days of Our Lives was playing, that I—”

“—I love you, Aziraphale, _I’m in love with you so much it fucking hurts_.”

And Aziraphale lost it, he stood up, ready to respond to what Crowley said, even as his ears rang and his mind seemingly stopped thinking, he felt like the pit of his stomach dropped, however it was not in a bad way. He simply can’t believe Crowley _loved_ him the same way he has been for the past 5,000 years. He opened his mouth but Crowley still wasn’t looking at him, walking around with his head down, rambling.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called gently, his hands shivering in excitement. Yet, Crowley didn’t seem to hear him as he uttered, “I don’t know if you feel the same way but—”

“Crowley—” and then he was cut off by Crowley talking even louder, and Aziraphale felt his eye twitch in exasperation. The demon was chatting vociferously and the angel maybe would have appreciated it some other time, but now all he wanted to do was kiss the fucking demon senseless.

“Crowley!” The demon stopped, and it was just that moment Aziraphale realized he was still wearing his glasses. Clucking his tongue loudly, he swiftly removed them from him, and Aziraphale stared directly into the anxious man’s orbs, leaning slowly until his nose touched Crowley’s and he felt the demon’s breath hitch.

 

“I love you too, you idiot.” He said before catching Crowley’s arms in his own and kisses him.

 

For a period of time, everything stops. Crowley’s pupils expounded and his vessel’s heart stopped. He stilled, and Aziraphale feared he did the wrong thing until the demon kissed him back, _fiercely_ in fact. Aziraphale’s hold weakens until Crowley caught him and before he knew it, he was pressed against a wall while the demon roughly kiss him. However, it wasn’t a painful one, despite the angel’s knowledge of sharing kisses and his experience for the last few millennia, he had never felt one as beautiful and warm as the one he’s sharing with Crowley. _His love_. Aziraphale’s eyes were clamped shut, experiencing paradise and home with the one person he truly loved, and will continue loving for the rest of his angel life.

Finally, he opens his eyes and takes a moment to catch his breath, even if he technically doesn’t need it, but kissing Crowley made him breathless _and_ complete. His heart which yearned for Crowley’s love for so long felt full, yet it wasn’t overwhelming, he felt fireworks inside his heart screaming for happiness.

Crowley was the same way, the enjoyment he felt from tempting people was absolutely nothing compared to the euphoria he was enjoying right now. And he’d do anything for the angel— just for this to never go away.

Crowley steals a chaste kiss from the angel while Aziraphale laughed short-windedly and he says, purring like a cat who got the canary, or more accurately, the _snake_ , “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,”

“As I do, my love. I love you.”

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Several months later, after successfully avoiding the wrath of Heaven (for being with a demon), although Hell had its qualms on whether to punish Crowley, because according to Satan himself, dating an angel is the biggest sin [27] he could ever give them so they left them alone, for now.

They, however, occasionally visited The Them, Agnes Nutter’s descendant, witch Anathema, the junior witch-finder Newt and even Madam Tracy and Mr. Shadwell (who all screamed in success when they learned the two were [fucking at last!] more or less, in a relationship) during celebrations and other events Aziraphale sought the need to consult or celebrate with them. Nevertheless, they spent most of their time either in each other’s arms in _their_ house (where they moved in a month after Crowley’s confession)  or traveling the world together. Might Crowley say, he’s even planning for a wedding, _but don’t tell Aziraphale yet, Adam!_

That month also, they received a rather strange gift placed in their front porch. A simple envelope with a letter inside of it.

_My congratulations to the both of you, my angel Aziraphale and fallen Crowley. My ineffable plan is truly starting, and it starts with the both of you getting together. Much love, G._

Aziraphale stared in shock at the letter, which fell from his shaking hands and Crowley gazed incredulously, “God with a big G wrote this for us? Does that mean They really planned for us to get together? WE are part of Their ineffable plan? My...”

“I— I suppose so, my dear.”

 

_P.S. Heaven and Hell would respectively not bother the both of you now, I sent them letters too!_

_P. P. S Crowley, do be a lovely fallen and do what you were planning on, the one you talked about with The Them and Anathema. Yes, the big W. Hugs and kisses!_

  


* * *

  


[1] Of course, a certain angel named Aziraphale miracled the unfortunate couple eating at their table in someplace else (“I do hope I sent them somewhere nice, dear, they seem to be such a sweet couple.” while Crowley mindwiped every human being inside with a wave of his hand, although he was amused and slightly shocked that Aziraphale would even do such a thing.

[2] Or was it murder? Heaven knows Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon would never admit to such a thing— they were angels after all, not _murderers._ Meanwhile, Hell is probably relishing in that fact. As they would.

[3] Just quite bad luck on their part, _and_ a fortunate one on Aziraphale and Crowley’s, seeing that Agnes Nutter’s prophecy came true, and thus, they both weren’t reduced to a puddle of holy water and ashes from hellfire.

[4] He wasn’t human, after all. He didn’t see the need to devour in food all the time and would prefer to doze off. An exception to this was, surely, Aziraphale.

[5] Certain _more than friendly_ , aka romantic thoughts about a specific angel, but no one tell him that. Crowley’s allergy to feelings that weren’t temptation and sin-related ones (even if love, most of the time, connected to it) seemed to have spread over to his own self. As shall be seen in the fic.  

[6] As a nice and accurate witch named Agnes Nutter once uttered in a small part of one of her unread Further Nice and Accurate prophecies by Agnes Nutter, Witch: “the goodyear nam’d Crowley is one ign’rant and in denial clotpole.” that translates to “The demon named Crowley is one ignorant and in denial idiot.” which is, fair enough.

[7] A lie.

[8] Unlike Aziraphale, (who can’t lie to save his life, one of the disadvantages being an angel) Crowley specializes in lying. He was, after all, a demon.

[9] It _was_ Crowley’s fault that Eve ate the apple, he _did_ invent the Original Sin, no matter how many times Lucifer takes credit for it. But it’s not his fault humans’ brains are so fickle. So, semantics.

[10] Something he wouldn’t like to experience in his _kind of immortal_ life ever again, everyone knows that he loved his car more than anything, except well… 

[11] It’s not like the Bentley would crash, spare him a little more trust, Azira!

[12] _And_ a bribe of one rare book Aziraphale doesn’t have in his collection. Which was quite difficult to find, since the angel has _all_ of the rarest books.

[13] A dreadful habit he seemed to acquire when he was nervous or concerned. 

[14] Entirely a good thing that Heaven is leaving him alone for now, isn’t it?

[15] And wasn’t that a surprise! Crowley saved, not only Aziraphale, but his books as well.

[16] There are zero cases depicting an angel falling in love with a demon _because_ all angels and demons remain to be separated at all times, an angel in Heaven and a demon in Hell or on Earth. However, they _weren’t_ Crowley and Aziraphale, who practically have been by each other’s side for 6000 years due to the Arrangement. So, can you _even_ blame them?

[17] No one except Crowley knows but Aziraphale had a quite unhealthy addiction to chocolates.

[18] Because, Aziraphale being Aziraphale, said “If we’re going to do a picnic, we’ll do it the traditional way! And we’ll walk too,” and Crowley had no choice but to follow him. 

[19] Unbeknownst to everyone, while Aziraphale learned how to dance Gavotte in his spare time, Crowley learned how to bake. It was definitely a fun experience for him.

[20] He absolutely could make the woman believe him, being an angel and all that, but why waste his powers on that?

[21] If you ask Crowley, he does treat them kindly! They wouldn’t still be alive if it weren’t for him.

[22] Human beings don’t seem to care about ice polars melting, animals and corals dying, heat and sea levels significantly rising, climate change and global warming. Pollution, too, however he couldn’t exactly blame them on pollution itself because Pollution is, after all, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

[23] One month, three days, seven hours, and fifteen seconds— to be exact. But no one’s counting it, so who cares?

[24] Don’t look at him like that! He’s not asking the angel to get married, Somebody knows they haven’t even _kissed_ , that was Crowley’s fault (for being ‘scared’) by the way. 

[25] Perks of being a demon/angel.

[26] Alstroemeria or Peruvian Lily is the symbol of undying commitment, love, and devotion towards each other; Purple roses signify enchantment and love at first sight; and yellow acacias mean the value of true friendship and can indicate a secret love. Who knew Crowley was a romantic at heart?

[27] Crowley thinks it’s the best gift Somebody has given him, but let Hell think what they want, he’s living the life anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Queen’s famous song, Crazy Little Thing Called Love!
> 
> Isn’t it just the best coincidence that Crowley loves Queen as much as I do? I want to thank Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett for giving me one of my favorite books ever and for the show to do justice to my favorite ship! 
> 
> English is not my mother language, so please bear with grammatical errors and typos I didn’t see. This is unbeta-ed as well. 
> 
> I love Michael Sheen and David Tennant with my whole heart, that’s all. 
> 
> I hoped you enjoy! Please send me prompts on my tumblr crowleyazira and I’ll do my best to write them all! Or simply if you just want to chat <3 much love!


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